


Kindness of Strangers

by CoffeeAndConjunctions



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Plums, Canon Compliant, F/M, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7434632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeAndConjunctions/pseuds/CoffeeAndConjunctions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shadow falls over the area he is occupying and he chastises himself for his inattentiveness. Keeping his body relaxed, no use in showing how off guard he had been taken if this was a threat, Barnes (he is comfortable with that name, it was a major victory that he’d settled on any name) looks up at the person standing before him.</p><p>Compact, too many layers to perceive muscle mass, a weak stance just slightly off balance with a cocked hip—all of it screamed civilian. In her left hand there was a tray containing two styrofoam cups and a bag was hanging from her wrist, it was nondescript but it smelled of food, on the right hand she held a scrap of small scrap of paper.</p><p>“Mic dejun.”</p><p>Heavily accented the words fell awkwardly from her lips and blue eyes only looked up from the paper  to make sure he is paying attention before she continued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindness of Strangers

Kindness of Strangers

Situated under the shade of a tree, the bark was rough on his back but it made the anxiety of being in such an open place more manageable. Early Spring had arrived in full force thought the early morning still carried a bite of Winter’s chill. It was convenient for him, he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to blend into the crowd with long sleeves at the height of Summer.

Shoulder skimming hair was tucked under a baseball cap he’d purchased at a thrift store along with the majority of his current wardrobe. He was no stranger to second hand clothes or so the foggy memories told him. A notebook was half propped against his upraised knee, the stub of a pencil gripped loosely in a gloved hand. The dreams had been relentless last night, recollections of bone deep weariness and whispered words in muddy trenches. A handful of a dress' hem dragging itself up a pretty thigh and the sound of wood colliding with a baseball as the man from the bridge cheered. Only he was smaller, frail—not the Titan he had battled against.

Steve.

Mission.

Bucky.

Asset.

Perspective was still sliding back and forth though not everyday. Most days he functioned like anyone else, went out and bought his groceries. The occasional odd jobs to pass time and not draw suspicions as to how the rent on his dingy apartment was paid (most of his money came from taking down HYDRA bases and cleaning out their cash reserves). Other days he rose and sat at the edge of the bed, starring at the wall waiting for orders that never came.

A shadow falls over the area he is occupying and he chastises himself for his inattentiveness. Keeping his body relaxed, no use in confirming how off guard he had been taken if this was a threat, Barnes (he is comfortable with that name, it was a major victory that he’d settled on any name) looks up at the person standing before him.

Compact, too many layers to perceive muscle mass, a weak stance just slightly off balance with a cocked hip—it screamed civilian. In her left hand there was a tray containing two styrofoam cups and a bag was hanging from her wrist, it was nondescript but it smelled of food. On the right hand she held a scrap of small scrap of paper that she was gazing at intently.

“Mic dejun.”

Heavily accented words fell awkwardly from her lips and blue eyes only looked up from the paper to make sure he was paying attention before she continued.

“Pot să stau?”

“De ce?”

She mouths his reply back to him her lips moving as if tasting the new words. Brows come together in confusion and the brunette kneels and places the tray on the grass, there is still a hint of damp from the morning dew and it seeps into the denim of her pants. Digging inside her messenger bag she produces a small book from inside.

A dictionary.

She thumbs through a few pages and must find what she wants because she nods to herself before speaking.

“Numai engleza?” 

Her statement comes out more as a question then fact. Continuing with the charade of a language barrier would nip this interaction at the bud, she already looked ready to flee. Making a decision he moisten his lips and speaks.

* * *

Three weeks they had been in Bucharest, Romania. Jane was on a Science Tour to present findings from her latest project and Darcy as always was along for the ride. Her first order of business this morning was going on a coffee run and sure as the sun rises in the east she saw him.

Notebook dude sat under his tree again this morning like all the other mornings she’d walked by this park. He didn’t look homeless per say but he had that look of someone who didn’t know where home was, she’d seen it on the faces of many New Yorkers when she volunteered at the shelters. The Battle of New York had left its mark on the people and she had done what she could to help. What she found worked best was just simple conversation.

Two blocks down the park there was a coffee shop where the cashier spoke enough english to understand her order. It had been a Godsend of a find and she visits nearly everyday.

Today, armed with two coffees and several papanasi (a kind of donut served with marmalade and sour cream which had not been doing any favors for her hips), Darcy asks the cashier to scribble down some of the phrases she would need and off she went.

Kneeling in front of him now, flipping through the pages of battered dictionary Erik had lent her, Darcy questioned her actions. Sure it was nice in theory to come bring delicious treats as a random act of kindness but it probably worked out better if the person could understand her.

“Why?”

His voice is pitched at a soft whisper that she might have missed if the park had been busier, as it was the raspy word seemed to rattle out of his throat.

“You speak English?”

A nod in confirmation brings a smile to her face. 

“Oh thank God.” leaning a little to her left she picks up a cup from the cardboard tray and extends it to him along with a little plastic baggy full of cream packets and sugar “This is for you, and I have papanasi too.”

Notebook dude (who from this close is actually a looker) has full lips and high cheek bones that should be feminine but are balanced out by a strong nose and scruff that turns pretty it into handsome and makes no move to grab the coffee. Just stares at her with those jewel tone eyes.

“Again, why?”

“Cause you look like you could use some company” was her honest reply, shrugging up a shoulder she continues “That and I have no sense of personal boundaries. I am a personal space invader of the highest caliber.”

Tentatively he reaches for the cup, careful not to brush against her skin, and baggy taking both in his grasp. 

“Thank you.”

“No problemo—” sitting back on her haunches she picks up the second cup and takes a sip, first cup of the day is always black as sin and her stomach does a little flip watching him pile on sugar into his coffee after studying the cup for a few long moments. Bringing out the containers with the papanasi she lays a little plastic wrapped fork on the grass facing him along with one of the containers.

“I’m Darcy, by the way.”

Hesitating for a brief moment that he covers up with a sip of his coffee, he replies “James.” 

Notebook guy, newly christened as James, picks up the container and fork. With a delicate movement she wouldn’t have attributed to his bulk he cuts into the treat and takes a small bite. Long, sooty lashes flutter as his eyes shut.

Damn. 

“Ma used to make preserves like this.” the words seem to surprise him, he looks startled to have spoken out loud.

A light laugh fills the space between them, she uses her fingers to eat her papanasi not caring if it was a little messy, “Yeah? My mother could burn water if left to her own devices in the kitchen. Master of the take out order though, never too much or too little was ordered in the Lewis household.”

He doesn’t reply, just keeps eating in a sedate pace that she might have called savoring. They sit in companionable silence until they are finished, once she is done with her share of breakfast Darcy collects the trash into the plastic bag she had brought the containers in. When she rises he follows her example and she adds tall to her new understanding of his physicality (pretty eyes goes on there too but she tries to squash that observation down).

“Thank you, Ma'am.”

“Seriously bro, it’s not a problem.” shifting her weight from one leg to the other she takes a peek down at her watch, if she didn’t leave soon she would be late. “Nice talking to you James, see you around.”

“Can I repay the favor—sometime?”

“Oh, uhmm—yeah, okay. That’d be good. Say Thursday morning?”

“Agreed.”

“Awesome, it’s a date.” she can feel a blush creeping up her cheeks at her slip up, “Like a time to meet date, not a date-date. Obviously, right. Okay. I’m gonna go now and be a weirdo somewhere else.” using her thumbs she points to the road and stumbles a little as she walks backward when he smiles. It’s small and warm and it transforms his face from stoically handsome to beautiful.

“Bye James.”

“Good bye, Darcy.”  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Short little piece in CA:CW.


End file.
